


Loves Goes Through The Stomach or Yet Another Modern AU

by philippcarlyle



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anne and Lettie are confectioners, Fluff, M/M, No Action, TGSFanFicFeb2019, Yet another AU, adding characters on the way, barlyle - Freeform, it'll be the usual, the chapters write themselves i take no responsibility, tons of dialogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-20 09:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17620124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philippcarlyle/pseuds/philippcarlyle
Summary: This is part of the TGS FanFicFeb! All chapter will be set in the same universe.P.T. Barnum is a renowned food critique and publisher of 'Food is Fun'.Philip Carlyle is a popular food journalist.That's it, I haven't planned out anyhting else yet. Bear with me.





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my part of the collection :D  
> I will try to publish as much as possible - don't expect more than 5-7 works during this february.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Philip first saw him, he felt repugnant – offended, even. He watched the other man saunter to the opposite row of seats and pick up an abandoned coffee cup. Gross. The man sips on the coffee – Philip knows for sure it’s cold as it sat there even before he entered the room half an hour ago. Apparently cold coffee doesn’t disgust the man as it would Philip and he leaves the room again, cup in hand and whistling a cheerful tune.

Philip scoffs, but tries to forget him. How dare someone wear the same suit as he does. In the same building. At the same day. He doesn’t pay 2.5k per outfit to look like _every other dude_.

“Mr. Carlyle?” A high pitched voice calls out not too long after this shockingexperience. She is way too cheery, but at least she manages to get Philip’s attention with it. He rises from his slightly slouched pose and follows the tiny woman out of the waiting area into a glass-walled office with blending white lights.

“Take a seat, Mr. Barnum will be with you in a second,” she says before she leaves.

Philip settles down in the enormous, bean bag-like chair. The office confuses Philip. It is very clean, the bright overhead light and the glass scream ‘professional, rich, important’.

But inside this well lit fish tank it’s like a circus. Philip tries to take all the impressions in – the wall behind the desk is covered in shelves, which are stuffed with so many things, Philip’s getting a headache just from looking at it.

There’s books, of course, but also magazines, vinyl’s, photos, a glass filled with pasta, two lion figurines, a peacock feather and a top hat. Philip has heard a lot about P.T. Barnum and his unusual way to manage the business.

While Philip loves order, clear cuts and strict guidelines, Mr. Barnum seems to be quite the opposite. Nonetheless, Philip admires his work and wants to write for ‘Food is Fun’ so badly he is willing to put up with totally different working approaches.

He leans back in the oddly shaped, but comfortable chair and waits for the man to show up.

When he does, Philip hears him before he sees him.

“Ahh, Mr. Carlyle, right? Good afternoon!”

Philip stands up, one hand on his jacket and the other outstretched to greet him. He halts midway. It is the man from the waiting room. Now, one might assume Philip knew how his maybe-possibly-future-boss might look like. But P.T. Barnum was not someone you saw in public or found in video interviews. The man’s products, ideas, opinions and critiques were everywhere. Not so much the creator himself.

A hand in an ice cream post here, sunglasses and designer shoes next to a table with chicken fajita and some exotic drink there. Never the whole package.

Whatever Philip expected, it was not this impertinent human being that decided to wear the exact same suit as Philip. Rude. But he wasn’t going to let his bafflement show, he was a professional.

“Yes, good afternoon to you too,” he replies and grabs the man’s hand.

“Well, I like your taste.” Barnum grins at him and Philip snorts. This ought to be fun. They both take a seat and Barnum immediately leans forward, elbows on the huge desk and eyes wide open and excitedly sparkling.

“You too, Mr. Barnum.”

“Why, thank you. If you want to work for me, you have to drop the pleasantries,” he smirks.

Philip can feel the tension trickle from his shoulders down to his back and vanish into the bean bag. Although Barnum is coming on very strongly, he has this kind authority to him and all Philip can think is that it’d be so productive, but still enjoyable, to work with this man.

“Like this? I don’t know, man, I’m used to politeness, but you’re the boss,” Philip’s cheeks and ears become a pinkish colour and he regrets the sentence the moment it has left his mouth. He isn’t one for some cool, laid-back talk.

“If you want to-,” Barnum laughs. Philip notices that it doesn’t feel like he is laughing at him. “But I just meant, feel comfortable around anyone here, no need for Mister, Miss, Sir et cetera.”

“Oh okay. Wait, around here? I haven’t even talked to you about my CV or anything.”

“Did I say I hired you just now?”

“Oh, uhm, sorry, I thought-“

“Because I think I didn’t and that’s terrible. I know your reputation and I’d absolutely love to have you on board. I had some more projects planned and you are just the writer I was missing to realise my plans. That is, if you accept my offer?”

Philip blinks. He blinks again. He cannot believe it, it's not supposed to be this easy. Well, he fought his way into the world of journalism, he knows he is good at what he does. But this is P.T. Barnum, food expert, the public’s favourite critique. Working for him – maybe one day _with_ him – this is a dream come true for any food lover.

He looks into those brown eyes, notices a tiny wrinkle in the suits lapel. He wonders whether his suit has the same wrinkle.

“It would be my pleasure,” he smiles.


	2. Vertigo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to part 2!  
> I hope you like it :D

Working for Barnum was - a mess. Philip finds himself, two weeks into the job, buried in work and no lifeline in sight. That being said, Philip has never felt so excited about drowning. Drowning might be the wrong word, though. Philip felt occupied, but not strained.

During these first weeks he finished more reviews about korean cuisine than he managed in the last three months. Although he didn’t see Barnum a whole lot, the man’s presence seemed to linger.

Or it just felt like Barnum was hovering over him because of the favour, Philip wanted to ask for. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Not really. Philip knows, that Barnum’s magazines are all about world citizens, enjoying all kinds of food from various places. Of course, to allow authenticity, some journalists travelled quite a lot.

Philip has been on business-food-trips before. A few years ago, at the beginning of his career, he stayed in France for two months, followed by six weeks in Italy. Needless to say, these were some of his most treasured experiences.

His phone starts ringing. Philip patts down his pockets, but he must have left his phone somewhere else. Sighing, he gets up and stretches. It only takes a few steps and a knowing grasp between the couch cushions to retrieve the still ringing object.

Philip smiles, when he sees the caller ID.

“Good evening, madame.”

“Hey, Philly, how is life?”

“Honestly? I am so happy that I took the opportunity. I just finished the last review! Thanks for pushing me in the right direction.”

“No problem, Carlyle. So, I just called to remind you of our spa day this weekend?”

“I-oh. Yeah, thanks-” Philip laughs into the phone. “-I would have forgotten it.”

“I know. But that’s okay, that’s why you’ve got me. See you saturday morning?”

“Definitely, thanks again. Enjoy your evening and say W.D. I said hi.”

“Will do, love!”

“Love,” Philip replies and ends the call. He lets the phone fall back into the endless widths of his couch and migrates back to his favourite spot in his apartment. The desk in front of a window with a huge ergonomic chair in front of it. He leans back as far as possible and props his feet up on the white desk.

He tries to be less of a workaholic than he has been the last year, but he still needs reminders to relax. Anne is the best alarm clock to yell at him **\- chill - chill - chill -**.

The young confectioner and Philip met almost seven years ago, when Philip wasn’t too sure where to go and what career to pick. They had both applied for and took part in pastry cook training, but while Anne found passion and fulfillment in it, Philip felt dizzy and suffocated.

It took all of his will to get rid of the nauseous feeling. Looking back, it was one of the key moments that made Philip become this way happier person that he is now. Not, that he’s perfect and delighted 24/7. But he feels so much better. Relieved. Free.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow he’ll ask Mr. Barnum whether the management would grand him the financial resources to go to South Korea. Depending on the answer, Anne’s and his spa day would turn either into a celebratory let’s-get-a-massage-we-deserve-it or into a fuck-it-at-least-we-can-treat-ourselves-now-in-the-sauna.

  



	3. Tracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to prompt and day 4!  
> I missed 3, I am very sorry for that.
> 
> If you have any ideas, scenes,... you'd like to see happening in this AU,  
> let me know in the comments!  
> Enjoy <3

> >>Good evening, dear readers!
> 
> I know, I haven’t written an in depth feedback about my last trip so far and I apologize. If you followed my blog for a while, you know how I usually update straight away and be as detailed as possible.
> 
> However, my business trip to Korea was truly something else. If you’re interested in my cuisine cruise, keep reading, you won’t regret it.<<

Philip stops and smiles. He can see the comments on his blog entry forming already. Questions about recipes, about the culture, about his experiences...and about his companion. 

He chooses three pictures to introduce the actual story. One of Seoul on the left, followed by an amazing photo of Bulgogi, one of his favourite dishes he got to try, and one picture of him in front of a restaurant. Satisfied with the arrangement, he keeps writing.

> >>Asian cuisine is popular all over the world. In every american city you find various restaurants just walking down the street. Of course, there are differences depending on the chef, the cuisine, whether they consider themselves more of a fusion cuisine or which products they use. In retrospect, there is a limited number of casual restaurants which really convey the taste of the dishes you are served in South Korea. 
> 
> Now, I don’t think our Asian restaurants in the US are not as good or shouldn’t be enjoyed - I observed a difference. And that’s nothing bad.
> 
> The trip was my opportunity, to follow the tracks of very old, very traditional, and yet, always progressing and innovating cuisine. 
> 
> As you may see in the various photos I’ll share with you, I didn’t travel alone. A friend and colleague of mine joined me for his research and - well, to experience the culture and country, like I did too.
> 
> You read this because of the food and photos? I am very sorry, here we go:<<

Philip let’s go of the keyboard to find the information on his phone about the first restaurants and the fresh food market they went to. He grins, as he scrolls through the pictures he took. Most of them show food and local attractions, but there are a few selfies too. Selfies, along with pictures, Phineas has taken for him and pictures, which feature both of them.

Philip sighs exasperated. Phineas made him promise not to publish any of these photos. 

When he gave the promise, he was still Mr. Barnum to him, of whom he asked a favor for a business trip. But during those weeks - hell, on the 18 hours flight already - he started to relax around this ominous, yet so kind and humble man. They called each other by first names and they laughed and ate and drank together. 

At first, Philip feared, once they arrived in New York again, that this might change. But Phineas had organised two cabs, wished him a lovely evening and said: “See you on monday, Phil. Get some rest!”

Philip had grinned and nodded. “You too, Phineas, say hello to Helen and Caroline.”

“Will do,” Phineas had replied and then they both took their rides home.

> >>Of course, these are just a few impressions. My friend and I ate so many things, cooked many more and only disliked a few. So, strap in and be prepared to cook korean for the next few weeks, as I have some delicious treats for you.<<

Philip spends the next twenty minutes trying to figure out, how to add a food emoji to the document.


	4. Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt and day 5!  
> Once again unbeta'ed, I am very sorry. It reads like a mess, I'm sure.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

“-RUINED! It is - oh my God, LOOK AT IT!”

Philip halts mid-step in the open corridor. He arrived early, as he usually did, when working in the magazine’s office. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one in early.

He drops his bag in his neat little office, then he strides further down to figure out, what that yelling is all about. The corridor is clean, bright and unoccupied. Not so much the bureau of one Phineas Taylor Barnum.

Philip could tell, based on the shrillness of a dying bear’s roar, that this wasn’t Phineas’ yelling. He arrives at the glass wall with the door camouflaged in it.

Neither man notices him, so Philip stands and stares. The scene playing out in front of him couldn’t be more ridiculous. Barnum stood, upper body crouched down, over his desk, focussing on a paper. As he was facing Philip, he could see how hard the man was trying not to laugh.

To Barnum’s left stands Mills Darden, chest puffed out, hands on his hips. His eyes are fixed on the desk as well, but unlike Barnum he looks like he wants to tear it into a million pieces and set fire to every single schred.

Philip only talked to Mills a few times. He was The Photographer for the magazine, the blog and for interviews. If you wanted the perfect arrangement, the delicious-es-test-test presentation of a dish, you had Mills in charge of camera and setting.

Most of the time, Philip only provided information via text or added selfies featuring food on his own blog, but he worked together with Mills on one or another picture that should feature his reviews.

However, he has never seen the man with such red cheeks, hair sticking out and huffing out an exasperated breath after the other. Barnum looks up and immediately his eyes find Philip’s.

He stands straight and gestures for Philip to come in.

“Uhm, good morning?” Philip enters the office and Mills relaxes and steps back from the desk. They exchange a friendly smile, shake hands, nod once.

“Good morning to you too, Phil! Maybe you can convince our dear Mr. Darden, that there’s nothing wrong with it. Would you look at this photo?” Philip takes the offered paper - an A4 print, high gloss, high quality.

“Do you  _ see it?! _ ” Mills points at the photo, brows furrowed.

“Uhm-,” Philip hums and analyses the photo. It is clearly supposed to be featured on their dessert pages. A beautiful three-story chocolate cake with flower decorations is the centerpiece of the photo. It is set on a simple, glass dessert plate on a white table with a blurry, creamy background. If you had to catch perfection in a picture, it’d be this.

“There!,” Mills hits the paper hard with his index finger and Philip cranes his neck. He examines the top of the cake. Perfect icing, white and pink fondant flowers and - a small piece of fluff. On top of one of the roses sits it, a big, fat lint. Well, not so big. But once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

“Okay, so, there’s a tiny speck of nothing on top of a perfect cake in a perfect picture,” Philip sums up.

“Yes, it is perfect! No one would notice it, your work is still impeccable!” 

Mills huffs out an annoyed breath and crosses his arms. He yanks the photo out of Philip’s hands and slams it back on the table. He sighs: “But I hate it!”

“Well, can’t you, you know, just edit it out?” Philip has absolutely no idea how any of this works, but he can at least try and offer some advice.

“No! I mean I could, but my computer crashed and the last pics I worked on are gone,” he says. Philip feels his face grimacing and he pats the defeated looking photographer’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Who made this cake? We could go back and take new pictures?”

“Yes,” Barnum agrees eagerly, “I bet Lettie wouldn’t say no!”

Philip grins. He should have recognized the work right away, based alone on all the times Anne has gushed about her cakes and shown him all the instagram pictures. Lettie Lutz was a sweetheart with a sweet tooth and has cooperated several times with with “Food is Fun”.

“I-,” Mills sighs once more. When he faces Barnum again, he looks rather sheepish. “I don’t want to cause more work and trouble for you, just because I’m such an annoying perfectionist.”

“Dard- Mills, listen,” Barnum starts and offers the photographer a kind smile, “Your perfectionism is, what makes all the pictures in our publications so amazing and unique. Don’t you apologize for being awesome. And I think there’d be no trouble at all, as I wanted to call Ms Lutz anyways this week. She tried a new recipe and made some lovely cheesecake variations I’d like to include in the upcoming ‘cook at home’ section.”

Mills sniffs and nods vigorously. “Sounds like a plan, boss.”

Philip smiles, relieved about the fairly easy solution. Mills picks up the photo again, folds it and puts it in his pant pocket. The three of them share an awkward look until Barnum barks out a short laugh.

“Great, now, get out there. If you want to, you can contact Ms Lutz today and schedule the meeting.” He shoos Mills out of the office and the man walks away, phone already in one hand and the other patting down his hair.

“Wow,” Philip says and shakes his head.

“Indeed. Now, why are you still here? Why are you here at all, can’t you work from home?”

“Ehh, sure. I just thought I could get the last bits and pieces for tomorrow done here. I wanted to go to the cinema later and it’d be convenient to be downtown already.” Why does he even reply? It is not forbidden to work in the office that belongs to him. It even has his name on it.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind you being here. Actually, quite the contrary.” Barnum sits down behind his huge desk. He looks up to Philip and smirks.

“Well, as you’re here anyways, would you like to get lunch together later today?”

Philip feels his ears warming up, but - ugh. It was just a casual quick lunch with a colleague. No, with his  _ boss _ . No reason to get all flustered.

“Yes, that’d be nice.”

“Awesome, I’ll pick you up from your office then.” Barnum replies and wiggles his eyebrows. Hadn’t it looked absolutely ridiculous, Philip might have taken it as a suggestive gesture. But performed like this, it just makes him laugh and he quickly leaves the room. Otherwise he might never start working today.   
  



	5. "Are you sure?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!  
> Once again unbeta'ed, once again I don't know what I'm doing.  
> This is prompt number 6 and I hope you enjoy it! <3

“ _Oh my Goooood_ , are you sure, this is a good idea?”

“Of course! Trust me,” Charity laughs and pats Phineas’ arm.

They sit snug in the corner of Charity’s porch. The afternoon sun sends warm gleams over them, making the cold appear less depressing. Charity is wrapped up in a light blue blanket - she had offered Phineas the mauve coloured one and even though he had first refused, his legs are now covered up with it.

Phineas shoots her the hundredth questioning look since they started discussing the topic. Valentine’s Day. Now, for the business Valentine’s was one of _the_ main events, they could put out all any food lover had ever wished for - lovely chocolate and red velvet desserts, fantastic lunch and dinner suggestions, romantically arranged and of course with recommendations of the drink to go with the respective dish.

However, Valentine’s wasn’t just about pleasing the customers, no, even to them this day had a special, personal meaning.

The last years, he mostly celebrated the day with Charity. Five years they got together for a cozy evening, where they talked forever and watched a film with their children. But last year, Charity met someone. And she was happy. Naturally, Phineas and her wouldn’t keep up the not-really-tradition-but-something-like-that. Phineas was fine with that, he already helped her organising a lovely dinner with all culinary specialties you could ask for.

Yet, Phineas had a problem. And Charity, dear, perfect Charity, was the one he went to with his issue.

“I just - I mean, he’s worked for me for more than a year now. We’ve been to South Korea, we travelled together after that. But I - ugh. I like him. And I know, he likes me. I just don’t know, whether he’d like that - you know?” Phineas is sure, he has never sounded less eloquent in his life.

Charity tries to keep a giggle at bay. She pats his arm once more, then shakes her head.  
  
“Phin, why wouldn’t he? Or, let me rephrase that: what’s the worst that could happen?”

“He says ‘no’, quits, never wants to see me again?”

“You told me, you guys kissed.”

“So, what?”

Charity raises one eyebrow and Phineas falters. He lets out a heavy sigh and a small grin spreads across his lips.

“Yes, we kissed. Twice, last week. But isn’t it too much for us to - it would be our first official date. Valentine’s day.”

“Phin. Phineas, look at me-” Charity scoots closer to him on the narrow bench, “-you are not too much. And although Philip tends to be reserved occasionally, he isn’t like that when he’s around you though, is he? He is very fond of you and I think it would be absolutely perfect for you two to start your journey on that day.”

“Thank you,” Phineas replies. He lets his gaze wander. The front yard is manicured and makes all the neighbouring places appear faded, plain.

Charity hums, which could be interpreted in many ways. Phineas knows it’s a ‘you’re welcome’. They sit in silence for a bit, both absorbed in their own thoughts.

Phineas knows that Charity is right. As she is most of the time, that’s why he lets her manage the business whenever he’s not in the position to do so. And he? He was a showman, he liked to be out and loud and proud. Philip might be different, but that shouldn’t be a reason to stop him. They could still spend a wonderful evening together, only for the two of them, hidden from the world. A sincere, hopeful smile blooms on his face and when he turns to look at Charity, she returns it.

“See, you’ll be fine. Let me know what you’re planning, as soon as you are planning it,” she says.

“Definitely, I need your approval. Maybe Jenny’s as well, she might be helpful.”

“I’ll ask her.”

Now that this problem is solved, they divert to other topics, make some tea, let the afternoon hours pass by lazily. This night, both of them lie in their beds, thinking about the upcoming holiday and how they’ll spend it in the arms of their loved ones. Or, in Phineas case, ‘liked’ ones. Or so he tells himself.

 


	6. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no ships, no Barlyle  
> just some wholesome Anne and Lettie thingy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt 8!  
> This one is without any pairing - so no barlyle  
> I hope you like it anyways (not beta'ed, as most of these chapters are and will be)!
> 
> Anne-centric with sprinkles of Lettie

Pastel colours everywhere. Dashes of rosy pink, emerald, soft sunflower yellow, cyan - Anne feels as if she has fallen into a candy cotton dreamland.

She smoothes out the nonexistent wrinkles from her apron. Her hair is put up in a neat bun on top of her head, like she always wears it when working in a kitchen.

She eyes all the ingredients, neatly stacked in a wall of white shelves. For now, the kitchen is quiet. The six isles stand tall and clean in silence, the furnishings all a warm, creamy white accompanied by silvery, shiny kitchen tools. Anne would happily commit a murder to take home some of the fancy utensils

The front door opens and two men enter. They greet Anne, but rather stick together, leaning against one of the kitchen isles, than come talk to her. Anne doesn’t mind, soon enough they will all have to focus on their work anyways.

Another door in the back of the large room opens and a smiling woman walks in. A beautiful woman with her hair shaved off follows her. Anne tries to keep her excitement to herself, but that can’t stop her from grinning widely.

Lettie Lutz opens her arms and greets the three of them warmly:

“Good morning, my dear learners! I am Lettie, this is Nea. I am so happy that you decided to join me on this workshop.”

Anne already loves her. Well, she loved her before, but now she’s actually met her, she could really say, she did. The woman with the magenta apron seems so kind and competent without being arrogant. Anne had met some really incredible chefs before, but most of them radiated condescension. 

“So, I would like you to quickly introduce yourselves and then we can get started,” Lettie says and looks expectantly at the three of them.

Anne takes a small step forward, willing to speak first.

“My name is Anne Wheeler, I completed my training a year ago and am a confectioner. I have never really worked with ice cream - or rather, when I had to, it didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to-,” she stops and Lettie smiles encouragingly, “-but I have read your books, seen you on TV and when I saw that you offered this workshop. I love eating ice cream and I’d love to be able to make some myself.”

“You’re at the right address, Anne! I’m sure you’ll be making fantastic food at the end of the day,” Lettie says.

The two men quickly introduce themselves afterwards, they are brothers who just started making desserts. They seem nice enough and usually Anne would pay more attention to the people around her, but today she only has eyes and ears for Lettie.

Nea steps forward and picks up another apron from one of the shelves. The lime green fabric twines perfectly around her and makes Anne wonder, whether her and Lettie’s aprons were individual productions just for them. 

“Please, choose whichever isle you like. Lettie and I’ll take up this one.” She points to the isle further away from the others. “Depending on your levels, we can come to you for tips and improvements, while the other one can continue with the procedure or elaborate on one thing or another.”

While Nea speaks, they walk up to the isles they like best. Soon enough they stand behind the isles, looking up to Lettie and Nea again. Anne lets her fingertips slide across the even and smooth worktop. She’s ready to make some sweet, icy treats.

After the first two hours, they stop and have a lunch break. 

Lettie invites them to the restaurant down the street and - as they are classy, well educated food experts - order pizza.

After working with Lettie and Nea for a full 120 minutes, they have shaken off the shyness and are openly asking questions, talking about weird food trends and talk about other topics as well. 

Feeling stuffed, a bit sluggish and very satisfied, they continue the workshop for another three hours. Although there is  _ a lot _ of input, Anne feels like a sponge, absorbing all the information and taking notes as much as she’s making that ice creams. 

It’s late in the afternoon when they take off the aprons, pack up their boxes with self-made ice cream and come together in the middle of the large kitchen once more. Nea had to leave already, but she had hugged everyone of them and heartily congratulated the three of them.

“I am very proud of you, well done. Thank you so much for joining me, I hope the workshop was helpful for you and that you may profit from your new knowledge in the future! I am sure I’ll hear from you again,” Lettie says and therefore ends the day.

“Get home safe and don’t be afraid to use the mail address I gave you, if you need something.”

“Thank you so much, bye!” They say their goodbyes and leave.

At home Anne kicks of her shoes, shoves the ice cream into the freezer and falls onto her bed. A deep, exhausted sigh leaves her lips. The day has been incredible, true, but also so, so, so energy-sapping. 

She pulls the hair tie off, throws it over the edge of the bed and detangles her curls.

After another sigh, she fumbles for her phone, pulls it out of her tiny backpocket and almost blindly dials the most-called number.

_ “Hey! How was it?” _

“I am so dead. It was a hard day, but oh my God-,” she yawns, “- it was awesome!”

_ “I’m glad to hear that! Not that you’re dead, the other part. Was Lettie as you hoped she would be? _ ”

“She was! Oh Phil, she is such a great person! I mean, she’s a crazy-good pastry cook, she knows what she’s doing and she does it with such a passion - but she’s also a really lovely human? We all had lunch together and she was brilliant and amazing.”

_ “Sounds lovely. But you know how to make ice cream now, don’t you?” _

“Of course! I didn’t attend to gush over Lettie Lutz. Well, not  _ only  _ to do that.”

Philip laughs and Anne closes her eyes, grinning as well. 

_ “You know, I have to finish this thing I’m writing right now. We could have dinner tomorrow and you tell me everything in detail?” _

“Oh, yes please. I have no money left after this workshop, though. Would you mind cooking something?”

_ “Haha, sure. Is Mexican okay? You’d have to take care of desserts. I’m thinking ice cream.” _

“It’ll be the best freaking ice cream you had in your life, be prepared, Carlyle! And Mexican would be awesome, nighty!”


End file.
